


28B

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hints of Linda Park/Lisa Snart, M/M, Olympics, Single Parent Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an early morning flight to Star City, Barry is stuck sitting next to single father Len and his fussy two-year-old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	28B

**Author's Note:**

> Flarrow-verse geography makes no sense and has zero continuity, so I'm taking all the liberties I want to make this story work! For the purposes of this fic, Central City is around St. Louis-ish, and Star City is somewhere near San Francisco. This is by no means a solid headcanon and is liable to change in any future fics I write. Also, if writing for the Coldflash fandom is like being a scout, consider this my bid to merit my Michael Snart badge. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave me lovely kudos and comments. I live for them!

“What seat are you in?” Iris asked, leaning over to read off the slip of paper in her adoptive brother’s hands.

Barry frowned down at his boarding pass. “28A,” he replied.

Iris’s head tilted speculatively at that. “I’m in 33E,” she said.

“That’s not fair,” Barry grumbled, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. “We booked our tickets months ago. We should be sitting together.”

Barry and Iris stood in the impossibly long line at their gate, carry-on baggage slung over their shoulders, preparing to board Palmer Airlines flight 1128 to Star City. Barry shuffled impatiently from foot to foot, sneakers squeaking against the floor. He shoved both hands into the pocket of his CCPD hoodie, boarding pass rustling as it crumpled against the small pouch of fabric.

“It’s the Olympics, Barry,” Iris replied. “Things are gonna be tight.”

While Iris reached behind her head to tighten her ponytail, ticket clenched between her teeth, Barry leaned over to scan the line ahead of them. About a dozen people stood between the pair of siblings and the airline counter where attendants busily scanned IDs and boarding passes, ushering passengers forward onto the plane with all the ease of a well-oiled machine.

As soon as Wally had qualified for the Star City Winter Games, the entire West family had booked flights and time off work to see him compete. Joe had taken the same flight out as Wally, but Barry and Iris, who both had significantly less vacation time built up than the detective, were only able to make it out for a couple of days.

“It’s only a few hours,” Iris said, taking her boarding pass in her hand once more as the pair moved ahead in line. “Just watch a movie or something. It’ll be fine.”

Barry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” he replied.

Finally, the pair arrived at the boarding counter and were quickly let through with a quick check of their papers. They made absent small talk as they moved down the hallway, the congested foot traffic starting and stopping more errantly as they drew nearer and nearer to the aircraft’s entrance.

“This is me,” Barry said as he arrived at row 28, pulling his backpack from his shoulders to place it into the overhead bin.

“Have fun,” Iris teased, patting him gently on the shoulder as he slipped into his seat, then continuing down the aisle to her own.

Fortunately, Barry at least got to sit by the window, a small consolation for being separated from his sister. He slipped off his bulky winter jacket and stuffed it under the seat along with his smaller carry-on bag. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Barry settled back in his seat and shoved his earbuds into his ears, hoping to tune out the chatter of his fellow passengers. It was six o’clock in the morning, and he’d been up since three thirty to make sure he got to the airport on time. Maybe he would just sleep through the flight instead. He could use the extra rest, especially given the two hours he’d add to his day with the time change.

All Barry’s hopes of sleeping on the flight vanished, however, when a man slipped into 28B, the seat beside him, carrying a diaper bag in one hand and a crying toddler in the other. The man was ridiculously handsome, maybe in his early-to-mid-forties, with long, elegant limbs and short, salt-and-pepper hair. The kid was cute as anything, too, all round, chubby cheeks and curly brown hair. The resemblance between the pair was obvious around the nose and the corners of the jaw. Barry wondered if they both had the same striking blue eyes, too. It was impossible to tell, though, with the toddler’s pinched shut as he cried.

“Hey, hey,” the older man cooed softly, bouncing the child on his knee. He rummaged through the diaper bag in a frenzy until he was finally able to withdraw a stuffed polar bear from inside that looked as though it had seen better days.

The man immediately passed the plushy over to the child, but that did nothing to placate him. Instead, he threw it violently away. The small toy hit Barry squarely in the chest before tumbling into his lap and then down onto the floor.

The older man looked over at Barry and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Barry replied, pulling out his earbuds and leaning down to retrieve the bear from the floor. He handed it back over to the other man, who took it gratefully. “I’m Barry, by the way,” he added, holding his hand out to shake.

“Len,” the older man replied, taking Barry’s proffered hand. “And this is Michael,” he said, titling the toddler on his knee to face the younger man. “Can you say hi, Michael?”

Finally, Michael’s sobbing faded into small whimpers. He opened his eyes - not blue, but instead a deep, warm hazel - and blinked curiously up at Barry. Barry smiled brightly at him and waved until, hesitantly, Michael waved back.

“He’s adorable,” Barry said, looking back up at Len. “How old is he?”

“He’ll be two in April,” Len replied. He waved the stuffed bear absently in front of the Michael's face to keep the young child distracted.

“Is this his first time flying?” Barry asked.

The answering sigh Len let out was profound and troubled. “Yeah,” he said. “And he’s not much of a fan of sitting still, either. He’ll probably fuss a lot. Sorry.”

Barry waved off the older man’s concern. “It’s fine,” he insisted. “I don’t exactly want to sit through a four hour flight, either. I’d scream, too, if I could get away with it.”

Len laughed heartily at Barry’s response, reaching down with one hand to grab hold of his seatbelt. He struggled to get it fastened with one hand still holding the stuffed polar bear, so Barry quickly reached forward.

“Here, let me,” he said, taking hold of the bear. Len immediately let it go and grabbed onto his buckle instead, clipping the ends together. He pulled the strap tight around his and Michael’s waist, then reached over to take the bear back from the younger man.

“Thanks,” Len said with a small, appreciative nod.

Barry smiled back at him. “It’s no problem,” he replied.

Before Barry could continue the conversation, a flight attendant appeared to Len’s right, leaning over to instruct him on safety measure for flying with a lap child. Soon after, the airline’s official safety video began playing. Barry thought that would be the end of their conversation, so it surprised him that, as the plane taxied down the runway, Len turned his head to speak to him once more.

“So, is this trip business or pleasure?” he asked. Something about hearing the other man say the word  _ pleasure _ , his voice low and rough, caused an embarrassing heat to pool in Barry’s gut. He just hoped he wasn’t blushing.  

“Pleasure,” Barry replied, still trying to pull his mind out of the gutter. “My brother’s competing in the games, actually.”

Len raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s quite the coincidence,” he said. “My sister, too.”

“Really?” Barry chirped, perking up in his seat. Part of him was interested to hear about Len’s sister, of course, but, for the most part, he was just excited to keep the conversation going. “In what?”

“Figure skating,” Len replied, still waving the stuffed toy absently in front of Michael’s face. Barry couldn’t help but find it adorable. “Ladies’ singles.”

Abruptly, Michael made a grab for the polar bear, which instantly drew Len’s attention. He let the toddler take the bear in his arms, then moved his hand to run his fingers through the tangle of the child’s curls.

“I thought it would be nice for Michael to see his Aunt Lisa compete,” Len continued, looking down fondly at the top of his son’s head.

“Lisa Snart?” Barry asked, head tilting.

Len glanced back up at him. “That’s her,” he confirmed. “Are you a big figure skating fan?”

“Not really,” Barry replied with a shrug. “But my sister works at CCPN, and her best friend there is a sports writer. She’s always talking about how great your sister is. They call her the Golden Glider, you know, because of all the medals she’s won?”

Len chuckled softly. “That’s Lisa’s favourite nickname the press has ever given her,” he said. “She’s not exactly modest.”

Barry chuckled, too. “Well,” he said. “I think she’s earned it.”

All at once, the plane picked up speed. Barry’s body pressed back into his seat as the aircraft rocketed forward, engines whirring. The plane went airborne without a hitch, but seconds after takeoff, Michael began to cry again. One tiny hand let go of his bear to clench at his ear, and Len made a small, sympathetic noise in response.

“I know, Buddy,” Len whispered, hand stroking over the top of Michael’s head.

The older man’s face was set in a clear frown, brow wrinkled, and it, in combination with Michael’s persistent, pained crying, had Barry reaching in his bag for his bottle of water.

“Here,” Barry said, holding it out in offering. “It’s a brand new bottle. If you can get him to drink from it, it might help his ears unpop.”

Len’s face softened as he looked over at the younger man. “Thank you, Barry,” he said, grateful. Grabbing hold of the proffered bottle, he twisted off the cap, the sound of the safety seal breaking nearly drowned out by the noise of the engines. He brought it up to Michael’s lips and soon, the toddler had the entire neck of the bottle in his mouth. It didn’t bother Barry. He was just glad to see the kid’s face relax, no longer pinched up in pain, as soon as his ears unpopped.

Len pulled the bottle back from Michael’s lips, quickly recapping it. He examined the obvious traces of backwash in the water, then looked over at Barry with a small frown. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Barry replied with a shrug.

Len shook his head. “No,” he said. “I insist.”

The older man leaned forward to shove the bottle into the seat pocket, then settled back into his seat, one arm wrapped absently around Michael’s waist as he played with his toy.

“So,” Len began, eyes trained on Barry in a way that shouldn’t have made the younger man’s stomach flip but still did. “You said your brother was competing, too?”

“Yeah,” Barry replied with a small nod. “Or, well, technically I was adopted, but I’ve been living with he and his family since I was eleven. Wally West. He’s a speed skater.”

Len’s head tilted in interest at the mention of Wally’s name. “Your brother’s Kid Flash?” he asked, clearly impressed. It was a nickname Wally had earned from the press when, at just 16 years old, he’d broken the world record for the men’s 1000 meter speed skating event.

“Yeah,” Barry said. “Wally’s skating’s always been a big deal at our house. But then, I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

Len just shrugged. “Not exactly,” he replied, a little terse. “Lisa’s mother left not long after she was born, and, well, our father certainly wouldn’t have won any parenting awards.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Barry said, a small furrow developing between his eyebrows. “Joe, my adoptive father, his wife did the same after Wally was born. But Joe’s a great guy. I mean, he took me in when my mother died, because his daughter and I were best friends, which he didn’t have to do. He could have just let me go into foster care instead.”

A quite  _ ding  _ rang out through the cabin as the seatbelt sign turned off, an announcement coming over the intercom that the passengers were now free move around the cabin. Barry watched as Len reached into the diaper bag under his feet and pulled out a set of over-the-ear headphones. He plugged them into the monitor on the seat in front of him, then began poking at the touch screen.

“You wanna watch The Magic School Bus?” Len asked, leaning down to speak softly into Michael’s ear.

“Yeah,” Michael chirped, bouncing excitedly in his father’s lap, feet kicking, one hand reaching out for the television screen, the other still clutching onto his stuffed bear.   

Len chuckled fondly, head shaking, then leaned forward again to press something on the screen. The older man brought one the headphones up to press against his ear, probably to check the volume. He nodded once, apparently satisfied, then placed the ear pads gently around Michael’s ears, the adjustable band sitting flush against the top of his head.

Michael stared at the screen, transfixed, and both Barry and Len took a silent moment to watch him. Eventually, though, Len cleared his throat and cast a furtive glance Barry’s way.

“So,” the older man said, eyes flicking repeatedly between Barry and the monitor where one of the animated children stood in a purple cape pretending to be a superhero. “Are you travelling alone?”

Barry felt a sudden blush rise to his cheeks, though he knew Len could have meant nothing by the question. “With my sister, actually,” Barry replied. “Iris. But the flight ended up being overbooked, so we couldn’t get seats together.”

“Well, then, it must be my lucky day,” Len replied, looking over at Barry through his eyelashes with a small, crooked smirk and, okay, that  _ definitely  _ meant something.

“What about you?” Barry asked, casting Len a quick, furtive glance of his own.

Len shook his head. “It’s just Michael and me,” he said. “My wife – his mother – died when he was born.”

“I’m so sorry,” Barry whispered, a brow furrowed with concern.

“Lisa, though,” Len continued, a small smile blossoming at the corner of his mouth. “She moved in with me for a whole year afterward, took time off from her training, even though she knew it might cost her her dream of making it to the Olympics. That’s part of the reason I wanted to come see her compete, even if getting the time off work was a pain.”

“What do you do?” Barry wondered, curious, but also hoping to draw the conversation back onto a lighter topic.

Len shifted in his seat, Michael jostling in his lap, to angle his body toward the younger man. “I’m a Children’s Service Worker with the Department of Social Services,” he replied. Then, he looked down at the lettering on Barry’s sweater and smirked. “And I’m guessing you’re a police officer.”

Barry chucked, shaking his head and turning to face Len more directly, too. “A CSI, actually,” he corrected. “But my father’s a detective.”

“So was mine,” Len said, nodding.

“Was?” Barry asked, and the second he did, he cringed, wishing he could physically insert his foot into his mouth. Len was probably old enough for his father to be retired, but the word  _ was _ used in conjunction with a police officer always had the potential of meaning something far more bleak.

“Crooked as the day is long, I’m afraid,” Len drawled. His expression was blank but his knee bounced almost imperceptibly, the slight movement shaking Michael up and down, not that the child seemed to notice or mind. “Doing life in Iron Heights as we speak.”

Against his better judgement, Barry couldn’t help but let out a harsh chuckle. “Mine, too,” the younger man rushed to explain as he saw Len’s brow furrow. “How do you think my mother died?”

Len’s frown only deepened at that. “I’m sorry, Barry,” he whispered softly.

Barry shrugged. “Don’t be,” he said. “My childhood was actually pretty picturesque up to that point, really. I mean, for years, I refused to believe he even did it. It just seemed so contrary to everything I knew about him. But then I grew up. Faced facts.

“And anyway,” Barry added after drawing in a deep, ragged breath. “Becoming a part of the West family was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes bad things can turn into good things, with the right spin.”

“That they can,” Len agreed.

Something in the tone of Len’s voice, in the softness of his eyes, caused a shiver to run up Barry’s spine. The younger man quickly looked away, trying to compose himself before Len could notice the blush colouring his cheeks. His gaze caught on the screen before him instead, and he quickly raised a hand to point up at it.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Barry asked, trying to keep his tone light. He held up his earbuds with the other hand and offered the older man a hesitant smile. “I don’t mind sharing.”

Len smiled back. “Sure,” he replied, and immediately, Barry was hit by a wave of relief. “You pick.”

Barry’s hand froze as he moved it toward the touch screen. “What do you like?” he asked, nervous and unsure.

“Anything that doesn’t sing or count or ask me what colour something is will be fine,” Len assured him.

Barry was still nervous, but he pressed on nonetheless, scanning through the available titles until finally settling on an older Ben Affleck movie he knew Iris liked. He plugged his headphones into the jack on the back of the seat, then passed the left earbud over to Len with a small, shy smile. Len flashed Barry a smile of his own in return before turning to watch the screen, prompting Barry to lean forward and press play.

It was a good movie, Barry had to admit, but he found it hard to concentrate with Len pressed so close to his side. He could feel the heat coming off the older man’s body, and it made him jittery and anxious. The brief respite of Michael tugging at Len’s sleeve every half-hour, requesting a new episode, was a blessing for Barry, giving him just enough time to ground himself before Len would eventually lean back over once more.

When the movie was over, Len withdrew the earbud from his ear and handed it back with a smile. “Thank you, Barry,” he said.

“It was no problem,” Barry replied, a little dazed from being caught under the older man’s intense gaze.

Michael’s most recent episode of The Magic School Bus ended then as well. He wiggled in Len’s lap and shoved the headphones off his ears, his stuffed polar bear tumbling to the ground. Barry leaned down to grab it from the floor at the same moment Len did, and their fingers met at they closed around the toy.

“Sorry,” Barry whispered, hand drawing back like he had been burned.

Len grabbed the bear from the floor and held it in front of his son, all the while giving Barry a thorough, considering look.

“Don’t want,” Michael whined, pushing the stuffed bear away. He wriggled even more aggressively, body going limp and slipping down Len’s legs like cooked spaghetti. Len sighed and reached down to unfasten his belt, then gripped Michael under the armpits and turned him around. He tried to meet Michael’s eyes, but the obstinate toddler had his head thrown back, plaintive moans growing louder by the second.

“Michael,” Len said firmly. “Use your words.”

“Don’t want,” Michael repeated, shoving at his father’s chest with his tiny hands balled up into fists.  

“So you’ve said,” Len sighed. Then, he ran a hand through Michael’s curls fondly before letting out an exasperated huff. “What  _ do  _ you want?”

“Wanna go,” Michael howled, his little voice filled with anger and impatience.  

Len wiped delicately at the tears streaming down the toddler’s face, but otherwise didn’t show much sympathy. “That’s not gonna be easy at thirty thousand feet, Kid,” he said. “But, by all means, if you can find yourself a parachute, you’re more than welcome to try.”

Barry struggled to stifle his laughter behind his hand, and immediately, Len looked over at him with a wry smile.

“He’s just tired,” the older man said. “Not used to getting up so early.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Barry wondered.

Len shook his head. “Other than be patient?” he replied. “Not really.”

Still, Len rose from his seat, one arm scooped under Michael's legs, the other around his back to keep him in place. “I’m gonna go take him for a walk,” he explained. “Get him moving.”

“Yeah, sure,” Barry replied, nodding absently.

With Len and Michael gone, Barry glanced over the back of his seat, thinking maybe he’d go check in on Iris. He soon saw, however, that she was sound asleep, head tipped back and mouth just barely hanging open. So, instead, he settled in and waited for the father and son to return.

A few minutes after Len had left, a flight attendant came by with a cart of drinks. Barry ordered a coffee for himself, long since having accepted that he wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon, and then paused, glancing at the empty spot to his right.

“And he’ll have a coffee, too,” Barry found himself saying, gesturing to Len’s vacant chair. The flight attendant nodded and passed him over two steaming styrofoam cups, then a handful of creamers and sugar packets.

Len returned just as the flight attendant moved ahead to the next row, slipping into his seat with Michael cradled tightly against his chest, fast asleep.

“Moving always does the trick,” Len whispered as he settled in.

Barry took a moment to smile down at the toddler’s calm, sleeping face before holding one of the cups out for Len to take. “I got you a coffee,” he said. “Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” Len said with a small, grateful smile. He removed a hand from around Michael’s waist to grab the proffered cup, then took a long, slow sip. When Len lowered the cup from his lips, he stared, troubled, at his upright tray table, brow furrowed.  

“Would you mind?” Len asked, chin jutting out to gesture toward the table.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Barry replied instantly, reaching over to unhook the clasp and gently lower it down.

As Michael slept soundly, braced against his father’s chest, Barry and Len continued to make small talk for the next hour of the flight. They discussed their lives, and their jobs, and their hobbies. Len liked to draw in his spare time, Barry learned, not that he had much of it between raising a toddler and handling some of the city’s toughest child welfare cases.

“And I wish I could do more,” Len said, one hand rubbing absently along Michael’s back. “I mean, I wish Lisa and I would have had someone looking out for us when we were kids. But there’s only so much I can do.”

“Of course,” Barry agreed, head nodding. “Listen, Len. As long as you’re doing your best, you’re doing right by those kids. I promise.”

Len chuckled softly. “You seem to have a lot of faith in me for someone you barely know,” he said.

Barry shrugged. “You’re a good man,” he replied. “I can tell.”

A half-hour before the plane was scheduled to start its descent into Star City, Michael stirred awake slowly, face rubbing against the front of Len’s shirt. He let out an adorable, sleepy yawn, and Barry couldn’t help but let out a soft, smitten coo in response.

Michael blinked blearily up at Barry and tilted his head. “Hi,” he said, voice cracky with sleep.

“Hi,” Barry replied with a small wave and a fond chuckle.

“We’re almost there, Michael,” Len said, rubbing a hand along the back of his head.

As Len spoke, Barry took a second to peek out of the small airplane window. “The view is incredible,” he said, turning back toward the pair in the seat beside him with a bright, excited smile. “I knew there were mountains outside Star City, but this is incredible.”

“Look?” Michael asked, arms reaching out for the window, hands making small, grasping motions. He wriggled in Len’s lap, torso teetering forward until he almost fell into Barry’s side. Len caught him under the arms and redirected him, hoisting him into the air before plopping him back down.

“Don’t crawl all over Barry,” the older man chastised.

“We can swap seats,” Barry was quick to suggest. “If he wants to look out the window. Or I could--”

The younger man stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, suddenly unsure. He glanced back and forth between Len and his hands where they were folded in his lap. Len’s head was tilted, curious, but he said nothing, instead waiting for Barry to continue on his own.

“If you don’t mind,” Barry said finally. “I could take him.”  

A small, crooked smile spread across Len’s face. “Do you want to go over with Barry?” he asked, looking down at the toddler in his lap.

“Yeah,” Michael exclaimed, swinging his arms out in the younger man’s direction once again.

Len chuckled fondly, then lifted Michael into the air, passing him over. As Barry grabbed him around the middle, his fingers brushed against Len’s, and it sent another shiver down his spine. He glanced at the older man through the corner of his eye, and the expression on his face warmed Barry to his core. He looked happy, affectionate, tender even, which wasn’t an intuitive expression to have three-and-a-half hours into a six am flight. 

“Can you say  _ thank you, Barry _ ?” Len prompted. 

Adorably, Michael tilted his head back to look up at Barry, hazel eyes blinking owlishly. “Thank you, Barry,” he said. 

“You’re quite welcome,” Barry replied. He scooted Michael forward enough on his knees that the toddler was able to look out the window, fingers clamping tight around the frame. 

Barry had never been baby crazy, exactly, but he was getting to an age, to a stage in his life, that had him thinking about children more and more. He knew Iris and Eddie were planning on starting a family not long after getting married, and the date they’d set was approaching fast. Even Wally seemed to be settling nicely into his relationship with Team USA’s star ski jumper, Kendra “Hawkgirl” Saunders. 

But Barry himself had never found  _ The One _ . While he’d dated plenty, nothing had ever work out. Nothing had ever felt right. His and Linda’s interests were too dissimilar. Patty was too focused on catching her father’s killer. Long distance had killed whatever he’d had going with Felicity. And Eddie? Well, as it turned out, he and Iris were a much better fit. 

Still, sitting with Michael on his lap, pointing out sprawling mansions and elaborate golf courses thousands of feet below, feeling the heat of Len’s gaze on the back of his neck, felt nice. It felt right. 

When an announcement came over the intercom that the plane was starting its descent, Barry passed Michael back over to his father with only mild complaining from the toddler. 

“And thank you for choosing to fly Palmer Airlines,” the announcement finished. 

Barry looked over at Len as he fastened his seatbelt with a slight grimace. “His ears are probably going to hurt again,” he warned, glancing down at Michael. 

Len ran a gentle hand over the top of the toddler’s head. “He’s a brave little guy,” he replied, though for whose benefit, Barry’s wasn’t sure. “He’ll be okay.” 

And, sure enough, Michael began screaming as soon as the plane’s altitude dropped. Len bounced the child up and down on his knee, making small, reassuring shushing noises in his ear. Barry tried doing the same, hand waving in front of Michael’s face, hoping to distract him. The toddler instead grabbed Barry by the finger a squeezed, grip painfully tight for someone his size, but Barry didn’t mind. Anything to help him feel better. 

The landing at Star City International Airport was smooth and uneventful, the slight bump of the plane’s wheels touching down almost imperceptible. As they taxied to the gate, Michael’s sobbing quieted, much to both men’s relief. 

“There you go,” Len said softly as he packed the stuffed polar bear back into Michael’s diaper bag. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

“Ow, Daddy,” Michael sniffled, still rubbing at his ears. 

“I know, Kid,” Len replied, ruffling the toddler’s brown curls gently. “But you’ll feel better, soon.” 

Then, Len turned to Barry and smiled, a little bittersweet, as the other passengers began getting up around them. “Well,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, Barry.” 

“Yeah, you, too, Len,” Barry replied, nodding dumbly. He looked down at Michael, nestled in his father’s chest, and offered him a small wave. “And you, Michael.” 

“Have fun,” Len added. “I hope things go well for your brother.” 

Barry nodded. “Your sister, too,” he said. 

Both men held eye contact for another long, drawn out moment before Michael, fussing and wriggling in Len’s arms, broke the tension building between them. Len uttered one final goodbye, Michael waving when prompted, before turning and disappearing into the crowd filing down the aisle. 

Barry wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he asked Len for his number? Obviously, they had been flirting, but it was even more than that. They had connected, had shared something, something meaningful. In four hours, Barry had gotten more attached to Len and his sweet, adorable kid than he had to anyone in his entire life. He should have asked for Len’s number, for where he was staying. He shouldn’t have let him get off the plane with plans to meet again still stuck in Barry’s throat. 

“Are you coming?” Iris asked, her voice and the gentle tug at his sleeve pulling Barry out of his whirlwind of self-pity. 

“Yeah,” Barry replied, a little half-hearted. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t ask that guy out, bro.” 

It was a full two days after Barry’s star-crossed encounter on his flight to Star City, and his brother’s nonstop ribbing was getting old fast. 

“Come on, Wally,” Barry sighed. “Would you just drop it?”  

Beside them, Joe let out a hearty chuckle. “How can you still be thinking about picking on your brother when you just won two gold medals?” he asked. 

Wally shrugged. “It’s a little brother thing,” he replied. 

The entire West family, along with Linda, press pass hanging proudly around her neck, were gathered in the largest banquet hall at the Royal Queen Hotel, an informal reception for athletes, their families, and other honoured guests being held there at the behest of Mayor Lance. 

“Maybe you’ll see him again, Barry,” Iris said, trying to mollify the dejected brunet. 

“Right,” Wally teased, eyes rolling. “And maybe sharks will sprout legs and start walking around.” 

“Wallace,” Joe chastised. 

Before Barry could interject that it was fine, that Wally was right, the chances of ever seeing Len again were slim to none, he was interrupted by the sound of sudden, squealing laughter. 

“Barry!” 

Barry turned just in time to catch a two-and-a-half-foot tall bundle of pure, unbridled energy as it launched itself into his arms. 

“Michael?” Barry exclaimed, looking down at the toddler with a deep, confused frown wrinkling his brow. 

From beyond his line of sight, Barry heard fabric rustle as Linda clenched excitedly onto Iris’s arm, her ragged gasp loud like a gale force wind. “Holy God, that’s Lisa Snart,” she whispered, or at least she tried to. 

Barry looked up from Michael’s smiling face to the pair approaching them at Linda’s words. He recognized Lisa immediately from seeing her on television, and as the near-constant background of Linda’s phone. She was even more gorgeous in person, traces of honey gold highlighting her deep, brown hair like nature had taken her moniker to heart. Her icy blue eyes were every bit as piercing and intense as her brother’s. 

Her brother, who was standing right beside her, drawing nearer and nearer with every step. 

“Hi,” Barry said dumbly when they were close enough to hear. 

“Hi,” Len replied, the small, crooked tilt of his smile even more breathtaking than Barry had remembered it. 

“So, you’re the kid from the plane?” Lisa drawled, eyeing Barry up and down. Her appraising eyes made Barry’s skin crawl, so he hefted Michael over to one hip and offered her his hand instead. 

“Barry West,” he said. 

Lisa nodded once, thought whether that was a good sign or a bad one, Barry didn’t know, then took his hand. “Lisa Snart,” she replied. 

Handshake over, Lisa moved on to introduce herself to the rest of the group. 

“It’s such an honour to meet you, Ms. Snart,” Barry heard Linda say from off to his left. 

The figure skater chuckled. “Call me Lisa,” she replied. 

“Lisa, then,” Linda said. She sounded almost nervous. “I’d love to get a few soundbites from you, if you don’t mind. I’m a sports reporter, with Central City Picture News.” 

There was a brief, charged pause and, when Lisa spoke again, her voice was a sultry murmur. “As long as we can do it over drinks, Cutie.” 

The women’s exchange barely registered to Barry, however, as he struggled to wrap his head around what was happening, that he was seeing Len again. Their eyes were still glued to one another, the electricity building up in Barry’s body like a livewire. Len felt like a magnet, drawing him in, and Barry couldn’t help but take an involuntary step forward.  

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Barry said finally, when he could think of nothing more eloquent.

Len just shrugged, and the casual ease with which he carried himself, the certitude of his actions, made Barry’s heart skip a beat.“I never did buy you that bottle of water,” he older man replied. He licked absently at his lips and, just like that, Barry knew he was gone. 

“But, I thought maybe I could buy you dinner, instead.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/).


End file.
